


Breaking The Pattern

by nhasablog



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 16:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17729024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: Elio’s laughter came in a wave when Oliver went for his belly, but rather than rolling away he just… stayed. Oliver loved him for staying.(Or, Elio keeps fleeing other people's hands when they try to tickle him, but Oliver breaks the pattern.)





	Breaking The Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> Have this ficlet

It was a strange observation, he had to admit, but maybe it was proof of just how wrapped around his fingers Elio had him.

To be fair, Elio seemed to have zero knowledge of Oliver’s lack of self respect and so he probably didn’t notice he was being examined. He seemed too relaxed. Too carefree for it to be an act he put on just for him. This was Elio when he thought no eyes were on him.

Oliver quite liked that Elio.

“Elly-belly?” Mr Perlman said one evening, and it took everything in Oliver to not comment on the nickname as he watched Elio perk up from where he was sitting, a book in his lap. Not protesting his father’s words. He had no idea Oliver was in the vicinity, within earshot, or so he reckoned.

“Could you come here for a second?”

“What’s up?” Elio said, discarding his book and walking over like the oh so obedient son he was.

“I just want to talk to you. Look at you.”

Elio rolled his eyes, but Oliver could tell he didn’t mind. He sat beside him, bumping their shoulders together. “You sap.”

Mr Perlman laughed, his hand ruffling Elio’s hair. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately. How are things?”

“Things are good.”

“Anything particular on your mind?”

Elio pulled a face, making a show of thinking about it. “No, not really.”

Mr Perlman squeezed his thigh. “You sure?”

Elio moved his leg away. “Positive.”

It was such a small thing, but Oliver perked up immediately, stupidly caught up on details. Maybe because he’d longed to do it himself ever since finding out Elio was ticklish. Maybe because he knew how casually affectionate Mr Perlman was with his son. How Elio was so used to this type of familial intimacy that Oliver had never experienced growing up. How it must be so common that Elio moved away automatically now.

He watched the casual interaction, which ended with Mr Perlman repeating the nickname while poking Elio’s belly and therefore making him scatter away, the two of them laughing. Oliver felt like he was intruding now, but he kept watching as Elio grabbed the book again to shield his midriff in case his father decided to continue the playful torture.

Oliver noticed a pattern after that, but maybe only because he was looking.

Elio jumping out of embraces with his mother when she wiggled her fingers against his sides, batting Marzia’s hands off when she tweaked his ribs, basically always running off whenever someone tried to do something ticklish to him, as one would expect.

And then Oliver tried and finally broke the pattern.

To be fair it took weeks to get to that point, and it was only in Rome that Oliver got to make the discovery of Elio not trying to flee his fingers like he did everyone else’s.

“Do you like this?” he mumbled into Elio’s neck, fingertips ghosting over his ribs while Elio just squirmed in his arms.

“No,” he said, voice mixed with a laugh that didn’t quite leave his lips.

“Liar. I’ve seen the way you escape tickling from others.” He felt Elio huff, but he still made no move to properly move away even though he easily could. “But with me you stay put.”

“Maybe you’re just not very good at tickling me.”

“Oh, you’ll regret saying that.”

Elio’s laughter came in a wave when Oliver went for his belly, but rather than rolling away he just… stayed. Oliver loved him for staying.

“Is this proof enough?” Oliver asked, stilling his fingers to grin at him.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to kiss me,” Elio said, breathless.

“You could just ask. I don’t think that’s it.” He tilted his head, lips curling into a smile. “Admit it. You like it.”

“You torturing me?”

“Exactly.”

Elio averted his gaze with a laugh. “You like it too.”

“Torturing you? Oh, absolutely.” Oliver didn’t miss the ‘too’ casually thrown in there, but he decided to leave his teasing for later. “Hearing you laugh is worth all the wait.”

Elio ran his fingertips over Oliver’s jaw, and Oliver wasted no time before worming his hands under his arms, grinning when his laughter started anew. “Wahait!”

“Make me stop.”

Elio didn’t. Of course he didn’t.


End file.
